


Tinker, Tailor, Shanker, Spy

by SweetPemberley28



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Airports, Cheating, Cormoran Strike Loves Robin Ellacott, Detectives, Drunkenness, F/M, Fate & Destiny, Friendship, Hijinks & Shenanigans, Honesty, Honeymoon, London, Loss of Trust, Love Confessions, Loyalty, Mistakes, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Partnership, Phone Calls & Telephones, Pining Cormoran Strike, Pining Robin Ellacott, Regret, Robin Ellacott and Cormoran Strike's Wedding Hug, Sabotage, Surprises, Tea, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-11-03
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:47:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27013756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetPemberley28/pseuds/SweetPemberley28
Summary: Strike arrives just in time for Robin to say “I do” – having gone through with marrying Matthew. It’s not what he hoped for, but if nothing else, he wants his work partner back.New information comes to light at the reception, which Strike reluctantly attends after updating his ride, Shanker, on the situation. While Robin sits in a fog of doubt and Strike marinates in his broken heart, Shanker decides that fate and karma aren’t always the most reliable of the universe’s forces.Will Shanker’s shenanigans be the force required in this “will they/won’t they” saga? Stay tuned!
Relationships: Matthew Cunliffe/Robin Ellacott, Matthew Cunliffe/Sarah Shadlock, Robin Ellacott & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott & Shanker & Cormoran Strike, Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike, Sarah Shadlock/Tom Turvey, Shanker & Cormoran Strike
Comments: 41
Kudos: 42





	1. Targets Acquired

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RaeNonnyNonny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RaeNonnyNonny/gifts).



> Thanks to @RaeNonnyNonny for encouraging me to wander off with the idea that Shanker did more than just wait in the car while Strike attended Robin's wedding and reception. 
> 
> Will be a handful of chapters to cover the results of Shanker's shenanigans. Good fun in fleshing out what he could have done covertly with none being the wiser...and of course, the banter between him and Strike.
> 
> Post-COE/Pre-Lethal White

The wedding concluded. 

Strike had made it just in time to make a spectacle by accidentally colliding with some flower arrangements before Robin answered “I do.” Although his heart fractured yet again, the beaming smile she procured for him, rather than Matthew, when saying so sealed it up temporarily. He returned a sheepish smile, his eyes humbly asking forgiveness, which Robin granted the moment she turned to find him.

The new couple, Mr. and Mrs. Cunliffe of course, now departed the church to meet the receiving line waiting for them outside. Taking advantage of this distraction, Strike scaled a path between the church and the guests to make his way back to his ride and chauffeur, none other than his childhood mate, Shanker.

His buzzed head leaned out the window, draping an arm over the door. 

“You made it then,” he stated.

“Barely.”

“Time to protest it though?”

Rather than answer, Strike turned back to see the couple shaking hands of guests congratulating them on their nuptials. His stomach flipped once more, his heart having fully dropped into it to be eaten away completely. Oddly, he still managed to feel hunger pains, having not eaten much the past 24 hours.

“I certainly wouldn’t be standing here with you if I had.”

“No one does this for _just_ an employee, mate.”

“She’s not _just_ an employee,” he growled as his patience nearly snapped like the match he struck to light yet another cigarette.

“Listen, I know you’re crazy about Robs,” Shanker tried again in vain.

“Fuck all good it does,” Strike muttered.

“So what’s the plan? Gonna brood the flowers to death?”

He leaned against the side of the car and closed his eyes. “Only sticking around long enough to ask her to take her job back and then we go home.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Shanker rolled his eyes. “Pathetic. Can’t _believe_ I stole a car and drove your sorry arse all this way for _just_ that. You used to have balls, Bunsen. I remember a time when you’d do more for a girl who treated you like dog shite left and right…”

Strike whipped around with furious eyes, but Shanker detected pain behind them and so backed down.

“Would you fuck all the way off already?” He was beyond exasperated and so fucking tired and hungry and disappointed. “Robin made her choice. The git won.”

“Made her choice, listen to you. Not like you gave her another option, did ya?”

Strike wanted nothing more than to punch a wall, any significant physical pain to remove him from his current mental state.

Still, Shanker wouldn’t shut up.

“Besides, won or not, he’s still a twat. It ain’t over till it’s over,” he shrugged back against the driver seat.

Strike angrily billowed smoke, observing the vision in white that was Robin from a distance, a post he would have to begrudgingly accept for all eternity now.

*****

Strike is perched on the steps outside the church with half a pint left sitting between him and a planter, basking in the sunlight. He senses movement and barely opens his eyes to see his former partner, feeling even warmer in her presence, make her way towards him with a friendly smile. 

“You look beautiful,” he remarked, pushing himself up to stand before her. 

“Thanks,” she blushed, pulling at her dress as if it were just something she threw on for the day…which didn’t feel too far from the truth. “You look terrible.”

“Yeah, it’s the jacket, needs to be taken in. Anyways, I’m not staying, just wanted to say sorry, and I want you back,” he stammered before he lost his nerve. 

“What?” Robin whispered succinctly, not sure she heard him right.

“To work. Have your job back.” 

He was dead serious.

She held back a smile then laughed to cover her elation that surely would have her blubbering in tears all over him.

“You didn’t have to be so dramatic, you know, bursting into the church. You could’ve just called,” she joked.

His face twisted, “I did.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I’ve left four messages, sent a few texts,” he went on as he put his hands in his pockets, fiddling with the lighter and pack of smokes, wanting to devour all of them as he dared not think about what he had said on those messages.

“What did you say?” Her query just tumbled out.

He wavered; eyes considered the ground and then rounded to Matthew who stood in the distance next to Sarah Shadlock. Telling her now wouldn’t make a difference and he wondered if it would have necessarily mattered had she got them right away.

“It doesn’t matter. I just assumed you’d blocked me.”

“Why would I…?” she began mystified. Realization dawned and her eyes fluttered downward before casting an accusatory glance at her husband, who happened to look at her in doing so, catching its meaning. 

“Right. Cormoran, please stay so we can have a proper chat. I’ve got to…sorry, would you excuse me, please?” 

“Yes, go mingle. I’ll stay,” he promised, standing still and keeping his arms at his sides. It was all he could to not wrap them around her and beg incoherently in her ear.

With a silent nod to him, she hastily made her way with a set jaw and determined eyes toward Matthew, who then followed in her wake. 

Strike watched them disappear leaving him alone once more with his thoughts which included underestimating that arsehole and overestimating his presence.

*****

“Pssst!”

Strike’s head moves side to side believing to have heard someone, but now realizing he’s probably delirious from exhaustion.

“Pssst! Bunsen, over here!” 

He turned to see Shanker’s pale head poking up from behind the tall bushes several yards away from the sidewalk. Calmly and slowly, Strike crossed the open grounds to the hedges as if he were looking for shade to enjoy a cigarette. With his back to the bushes and Shanker, he blew out smoke.

“Go wait in the car for fuck’s sake.”

“I’m fucking bored and it’s too nice out. Saw you talking to Robs,” he needled as he was determined to keep picking at this wound even if it ended with him and Strike in a fistfight, the likelihood of which, growing with every passing minute. He saw how she lit up when she stood with the beaten up detective. “What’s the verdict?”

“I asked, she didn’t answer yet. Too distracted at finding out my calls were blocked. By the twat, no less.”

“What a dirty bastard,” Shanker shook his head, the sight of the posh husband coming back to mind. 

“That’s rich coming from you,” Strike mused.

“Hey, there are just some things you don’t do, and messin’ with your girl’s loyalty is one of them.”

“You have a strange code of ethics,” he half-smiled. “She asked me to stick around for a proper chat so will be here a while longer.”

“Well, that sounds promising. I might nip to the kitchen for some food then.”

“Stay in the car, I mean it,” Strike warned. 

Shanker huffed and rolled his eyes, “You’re tons of laughs, _Dad_.”

Strike now turned to him as he stomped on his cigarette, granting him a threatening look before shuffling back to the building. 

“I’ll sneak some biscuits if I find any.”

With Strike halfway back to the reception hall, Shanker eyed the perimeter and grounds feeling powerless to do anything.

“Hell with that,” Shanker quietly proclaims to the bushes and sneaks off back to the car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this one a tiny bit as the initial post didn't fully sit well with me - just certain dialogue bits here and there.


	2. The Honey Pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An all Shanker POV chapter that includes him prodding an open wound as far as Sarah Shadlock and Tom Turvey go...and he's only just begun!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let’s just all suspend belief for a wee bit and pretend the dominoes do fall in the fashion that’s to come…

After checking the perimeter of Swinton Park and spotting the maintenance area, Shanker was about to abandon the car once more to run some behind-the-scenes interference. He paused a moment longer when he heard voices, a couple arguing as they approached the car lot, coming to a stop at their own two spaces from the stole Jaguar. 

Shanker peered over to see the bird he witnessed standing close and chummy to Robs’ husband, clearly wanting what she can’t have. 

_A lot of that going around,_ he thought. 

She looked to be matched up with an unsuspecting boyfriend, another clueless git. A tall, lanky one with a mop of ashy blonde hair who staggered as if he’d already thrown back a few pints. The woman looked forlorn until her eyes studied her boyfriend as if she’d settled on the next best thing…which wasn’t even that great.

Shanker could smell the treachery wafting from her over the smoke-infused interior of the vehicle no thanks to Bunsen’s nervous chain-smoking then entire drive from London.

She spoke haughtily while the man removed his tie. “He’s taking her to the Maldives. I wish I were going to the Maldives,” the bird pouted, crossing her arms. 

_Traveling to the Maldives, eh?_ Shanker thought. _I can’t stop a plane from going anywhere, but..._

The man patted her shoulders like a brother would his sister. “We’ll be going on our holiday soon, love.” 

She shrugged off his hand and turned her head when he tried to kiss her, he stumbled and smooched the car roof instead. 

“Visiting your parents in the country is not the Maldives, Toooooooom,” elongating his name with annoyance. “At least Matthew knows how to plan a proper trip. Should take a play out of _his_ book.”

Angrily, he righted himself and snarled at her, “Yeah, well we all can’t be perfect like the new Mr. and Mrs. Cunliffe.”

Tom began making his way towards the path from whence they came.

“You coming, Sarah?”

She folded her arms and lifted her face towards the sun, closing her eyes.

“Nah, in a minute,” she brushed him off.

“Suit yourself,” he grumbled and went on his way.

Shanker looked back and forth from Tom’s back to Sarah’s indifferent stance, figured this was a sign to add some proper stoking to a fire that was already simmering. He’d never been a matchmaker, but if it helped his friends out while hanging the disloyal out to dry, he didn’t give a toss about the latter. If all for not, he’d at least gain a hearty laugh.

_Just call me the Unexpected Cupid,_ Shanker grinned. 

He stepped out of the car and lifted the bonnet, carefully noticing Sarah. 

“You al’ight, miss?” he inquired while busying himself with checking perfectly sound wires. Girls liked her loved high-end cars and the one he nicked qualified. She looked over, mildly interested.

“I’ve been better. And you? Having a bit of car trouble?” she wondered.

“Nah, it’s al’ight, just giving her a bit of a check while I wait for my employer.”

“So you’re not a wedding guest?” 

He shook his head, wiping at this and that along with the engine. “Nah, just a driver for a guest of the groom’s.”

Her eyes awakened at the mention of the groom.

“He is lovely,” she declared, “and now so very married.”

Shanker twisted off caps just to put them right back on. “You sound troubled.”

She nodded and sniffled, now he made eye contact with her.

“As a hired driver, I listen to all sorts talk about their troubles. What’s said in the car, stays there. I’m good at listening and even better at keeping secrets.”

He winked at her as she studied him a moment before moving to stand closer.

“But I’m not in your car,” she responded perplexed. He looked away to hide an eye roll.

“All the same out here, miss,” he assured.

“We have a history, he and I,” she broke. “Goes back to our Uni days, but then he met her. We had a fling, she didn’t know, of course, but it never quite stopped. Then I met his best mate, Tom. He’s an ok bloke, but it just makes things convenient.”

“Sure. Keeps you close and on the radar.”

“But then Matthew went off and proposed _to her_ , barely been able to see each other since, and now…” the tears came and her voice broke, “…he’s married.”

“You love him?”

Tears spilled down her cheeks so he found some napkins from a takeaway inside the car and passed them to her. She took them graciously and wiped her eyes.

“Sounds painful,” Shanker sympathized. “But it’s never too late.”

She looked at him incredulously with a snort, “He’s married.”

“Did you tell him how you felt before this?”

Now she leaned against the passenger side of his car, staring up at the building across the lawn.

“I tried so many times, I figured he knew but didn’t do anything about it,” she whimpered.

_A lot of that going around, too,_ Shanker observed. He never understood how people can be so bloody scared of their own shadow all the time. He’d give anything to be the type who deserved that kind of chance, but life doesn’t always work like that. 

Christ, he was getting sentimental.

Shanker followed her gaze towards the reception that should be underway by now. 

“He’s right in there, miss. Maybe he needs to know now before it goes any further. Maybe if you had told him yesterday we wouldn’t be here now. You owe it to yourself to find out. Seize the opportune moment and tell him. Might wanna hurry though as I expect they have a honeymoon after this.”

“I can’t bear the thought of it; two weeks no less,” Sarah sighed, “in the Maldives.”

“Two weeks is a long time,” Shanker lowered the bonnet and let go until it clicked shut. “But so is forever without knowing.”

He hesitated and then went on with his own story. “I loved a girl once. Cathy was her name, she was amazing and smart and funny. Always down for a laugh and could drink me under the table. I had so many chances to tell her but didn’t. Eventually, she married a decent enough bloke, had a couple of kids. I always wonder. A day doesn’t go by that I don’t think about her and my regret of never having told her.”

“Gosh, that’s awful and so sad,” she gawked and the wheels kicked in full gear.

“Yeah, well, the choice is yours. Or not.”

Sarah pushed herself away from the car and stood up tall. “You’re right. I’m going to tell him.”

“You should and make sure he listens good and proper. Seems like you have your ways of getting him to pay attention to you…”

She fluffed her hair and smoothed out her dress before opening her mini purse to powder her nose. Once pleased with her appearance, she clicked the mirror shut and gave him a bright smile.

“I am going to make him see reason. Thank you, Mr…?”

Shanker bowed slightly, “Bernie, miss.”

“Thank you, Bernie. I best be off.”

“Best of luck to you,” he lifted a fist in solidarity and support. Her shoulders hunched as she giggled, hurrying in her bright pink hills back up the walkway.

Once out of sight, he shook himself from head to toe, revolted by the humanity and emotion of such an insipid interaction. He didn’t think he’d even ever known a ‘Cathy’ that’ll give Bunsen a right laugh if it ever gets to a point where they look back on today with fondness and regaling of the day’s events.

God, he needed a drink to wash that taste out of his mouth and memory, but he was on a mission. With no one in sight, he snuck over to Tom’s car, discretely letting the air out of every tire on Tom’s car. 

“Oh no, what bad luck!” he said out loud, chuckling as the tires hissed in the background, feeling more like himself once again.

*****

Avoiding the straggling guests outside, most of whom were enjoying a cigarette in one hand and a drink in the other, Shanker bee-lined for the facility’s maintenance garage, the perfect way in.

Inside he found what he needed: a toolbox, overalls, and a hat. He grabbed a clipboard and flipped over the attached lawn schedule; make it look like a work order of sorts. 

_What a kick in the arse!_

Most people always took him for being a stupid, worthless criminal with a scar on his face and tattoos all over his body, but those who knew him – Bunsen, for example – knew he was fit with a brain with a method to his madness. Sure, the results weren’t all gold like his favorite tooth, but he did well enough for himself even if most of the jobs he worked sat on the other side of the law.

But it was always the people opposite of that line who paid him for his skill set. For a price, he provided results.

Was he impulsive? Maybe. 

Did he tend to get caught? Well, he had a prison record to prove it, but that last stretch was all thanks to a snitch who currently resided in an undisclosed patch of land on the outskirts of London. 

Did he feel shame in helping a friend who didn’t ask for it? None!

He’d be damned if all this effort of stealing a car to drive Bunsen all the fucking way up here was for naught. If it blew up in his face, eh, at least he bloody tried, unlike those two scaredy-cats. The possible payoff far outweighed the reward, and it made his old heart a bit giddy at the idea of a shady act benefiting a friend.

Well, friend _s._

He considered Robs as one by extension. She’d used his help without Bunsen’s approval, but she had trusted him with her safety and that went a long way as far as Shanker was concerned. He was just sorry it got her sacked even though he knew the broody detective overreacted, shooting off his remaining foot, so to speak. 

In his mind, Leda would be thrilled in knowing that he and her son still looked out for one another and maintained a friendship despite living on opposite sides of that line.  
With the toolbox and clipboard in hand, the old gang member set out to find the kitchen entrance which was open for caterers and waiters coming and going from it to the catering vans parked nearby. 

A grumbling stomach reminded of his bloody starving so at the very least he was going to get a goddamn roll before rolling up his sleeves to do some honest work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and that Shanker speaks in complete, coherent sentences. Who knew he could be so Oprah-like? Ha!
> 
> I actually felt sorry for Sarah. But only a split second for she's a total twat, too!
> 
> Also, Idk why I chose Bernie for Shanker's fake driver name...lol


	3. Infiltration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shanker infiltrates the swanky reception hall to embark on a trail of mischief, a little bit of thieving (not just a dinner roll!), and being in the right place at the right time (more than he hoped!) to properly undo this sham of a wedding.
> 
> Well, that's just some good luck now, ain't it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> minimal ***SMUT*** - nothing explicit and not who we want...

Beyond depletion, Robin sat immobile at the bridal table staring into space, everyone’s face a blur, the voices a low hiss of white noise. Learning about Strike’s messages had blindsided her more than Matthew’s betrayal of deleting them, blocking him, and manipulating her through those actions. 

Was she really surprised? It’s completely like him to do just that. 

He knew she would have chosen the job because she had always wanted that more than anything. She lost count with the number of times this was communicated quite clearly amidst several conversations and even more rows. He still chose to play dirty just as he did on the rugby field.

Matthew was her Judas and Strike her savior.

She felt numb from her foolishness. Apart from the regret weighing on her, she wondered what the messages contained – what words he chose, the tone he used. 

_Bugger it all,_ she conceded.

From his assigned seat, Strike stared, enamored, watching her lost in her thoughts, worried at her disengagement from the surroundings, and wondered if it _wasn't_ too late. He wanted nothing more than to have the courage to ask her, the strength to handle any answer, and the energy to act accordingly. Preferably, for her to say yes and leave with him, returning to the agency and do what they do best…together.

She caught his gaze, which did not falter from either side, however, nothing registered to her immersion in an internal downward spiraling. He noticed -- _goddammit he was the only paying any attention to her!_ \-- but he remained seated and neutral, quietly supporting her even if it took yet another piece of him to do so.

*****

Shanker sauntered up the path and entered the kitchen with barely a glimpse from the few caterers nearby who were far too busy clearing and cleaning dinnerware and crockery. Looking around to make sure no one was paying attention, he swiped a roll from a large basket and put it in his pocket. He walked further in as if he had done so a thousand times in all his years working for Swinton Park. Not a question from the passing housekeeper or even the wedding coordinator who came back to let the staff know the speeches were about to start thus suspending service until they concluded.

Out of curiosity, he popped his head out into the dining area to find Bunsen’s big, curly head, which he nearly overlooked because the dolt had dozed off before the Best Man even received the microphone. His eyes scanned the room to find Robin sitting, staring down at her lap and unsmiling. 

_Poor sods. Uncle Shanker was here to try to make things right._ And if it didn’t, then he’d bow to the universe in all her infinite wisdom. _Even though she was being a right cunt in this situation._

He retreated from the doorway and headed towards the back stairwell that would lead him to the second floor and the bridal suite. He retrieved the pocketed roll, munching on it till he reached the top of the stairs. The double doors were found to his right and so he grabbed the handle which turned without a fuss granting him easy access.

He grimaced though, looking upward for a moment: _Sorry universe about that thing I said before._

Quietly closing the door behind him, he set off to rummage through what he presumed to be Matthew’s suitcases proving correct by all the button-up shirts and boxers. Shanker couldn’t help himself and opened the lid to the talc powder, setting it between a few layers of clothing. It was juvenile, but Shanker did it for shits and giggles. 

He moved onto the holdall, ignoring the passport but pocketing the 200 quid. 

_This is for all the petrol to get here, tosser!_ he excused.

Robin’s holdall was next and this time he swiped the passport placing it inside his shirt pocket rather than the overalls one. The loss of hers would cause more a row plus it was she that needed to remain in England. He didn’t give a toss if the bloke went to the goddamn moon.

Hearing footsteps coming from the hall, he hurried over to the bathroom and pretended to fix a leak underneath. A few moments passed when suddenly the main door opened and an older gentleman hurried in, his bladder about to explode.

“Pardon me, sir, just finishing up in here. The sink was leaking and all,” Shanker began to explain.

“If you wouldn’t mind removing yourself otherwise I’m going to be the one leaking and all!” Gregory, Matthew’s dad, bellowed.

Shanker hurried out of the bathroom with his toolbox and the man slammed the door behind him. With no more to be done here, he cautiously exited the room and headed back downstairs. Now it was time to find the electrical power panel. 

He’d been to enough weddings to know the first dance usually followed the speeches, but they couldn’t have a dance without music which was being supplied by a DJ. Maybe then those two could use the time for a proper chat.

_Nothing like a power outage to thwart the festivities,_ he grinned.

He found the utility closet off the hallway that ran parallel to the dance hall with one end leading to the kitchen and the other to the main stairwell. The room contained a washer and dryer for housekeeping, a counter, and some cabinets with a rack filled with cleaning supplies. He found the power panels located on the wall behind the supply rack. Despite the slight glow of the night light, that spot was well covered by the darkness and supply rack, perfectly hiding him should anyone happen to walk in. 

Waiting for the right moment to flip off the power, he heard the DJ announce the first dance of the newlyweds. The song “Wherever You Will Go” by The Calling soon reverberated through the building.

On the other side of the wall, Strike loomed behind the guests, circling slowly watching Robin in Matthew's arms, still not looking happy with being a new bride. Her eyes kept meeting Strike’s with every turn, convoluted and misleading and blurring the line of what separated them.

_Fuck this,_ he decided and left the reception when her back was turned, never looking back. 

_Fuck this,_ Shanker expressed as the chorus hit, and flipped off the power. The music and lights fizzled off, sending guests into a flurry of gasps and moans. 

“Ah, that’s just bad luck then, eh?” Shanker whispers to the dark, faint emergency lights coming on that barely added more light than the candles lit around the reception hall.  
The DJ’s booming voice overrode the guests’ exasperations.

“Please do not be alarmed as it's most likely a power surge. These things do happen so if you would be so kind to be patient and safely make your way to a seat, we will be back on track…” he paused for a laugh which no one offered, “…before you know it.” 

Robin parted from Matthew, unable to find Strike. Assuming he left, she exits the hall to go after him.

*****

This… _this!_ …was the moment Sarah needed! She had been waiting for an opportunity to get Matthew alone and this was it. Tom had clung to her since she returned after their row by his car making it impossible to peel away until finally scampering off to the loo before the first dance.

She saw Robin run outside leaving Matthew behind on the dance floor, so she seized his hand and pulled him to her.

“Sarah, what’s going on?”

“We need to talk now!” 

He kept a hold of her hand as she dragged him down the hallway, finding the utility closet.

“In here,” she whispered, locking the door behind them.

*****

Shanker had just picked up the toolbox to leave when someone came in and locked the door. He stood still and quiet, peaking through the supply rack to see Sarah and Matthew. He closed his eyes and mouthed _“please”_ to the void.

She stood with her back against the counter. “Look, I know what’s done is done, but I can’t let you go without telling you that I’m in love with you. That it should be me, not Robin.”  
Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair as he approached her, setting a hand on either side of her on the counter.

“Sarah, we’ve been over this,” he began as his face came closer to yours.

“It should be us together, Matthew, us. You know you love me and I know how much you want me even when you aren’t with me.”

“We just can’t…been with Robin forever and you’ve got Tom,” he reasoned.

“To hell with Tom! Besides, they haven’t stopped us before,” she cooed, sliding a finger down the buttons of his crisp white shirt and stopping at his belt. “Why should it stop us now?”

She undid his belt as she pressed kisses to his jaw and chin; he made no move to stop her when she unzipped him.

“You know it and I know it. With the way she’s ignored you all evening, she knows it, too,” Sarah went on grasping him fully in her hand, his attention fully on her.

“Better make it quick, then we’ll see what can be done,” he whispered, now shaking from the movements of her hand on him.

She hopped on the counter and wrapped her legs around his waist. He lowered his trousers and entered her, thrusting into her like an inexperienced teenager. 

“How can she resist you? I never can,” she moaned, gripping his arse harder.

“Too…busy…playing…detective,” he grunted between thrusts. “She’s the most…clueless…of the two.”

“Ah, yes, so very naughty, Matt,” she giggled, “it’s one of the reasons why I love you. And why I’m coming…”

He gave a small laugh before one last thrust and guttural grunt marking his completion. Sarah continued breathing heavily as he pulled away, righting himself and buttoning up his suit. He gave her one last kiss before returning to the wedding. She stepped down from the counter and smoothed her dress before following.

And with that, Shanker pushed stop on the cell’s video recording feature.

_He killed two birds with one stone!_

He had watched some lame porn in his day, but this was just sad and pathetic, for he had snarled the duration of their sloppy quickie. Those two deserved each other, as did the other two somewhere out there. Hopefully, they had made the best of the power outage as well.

Surely this priceless piece of proof would be more than enough to convince Robin there was still time for an escape. Even if Strike isn’t an option, she doesn’t deserve this tosser for a husband, and Shanker had no qualms about rescuing a damsel in distress if he could help it. She reminded him too much of Leda, who he protected and rescued every chance he got…except for the last and final time which resulted in her death.

Maybe in some small way, this interference in Robin’s life would grant him a slice of redemption. 

He was only trying to save her.

Once the two cheaters were gone, he removed the overalls and abandoned them with the toolbox. He quietly opened the door and checked the area was clear for it was a matter of moments before someone would come check the panel - which he left beyond repair. 

He slithered back towards the kitchen where he pilfered a couple of sandwiches and water bottles, his reward for a victorious evening. He jogged back to the getaway car, hoping to get before his friend did. 

If not, Shanker had an excuse for not being there waiting, and surely Bunsen would forgive him once he saw the extra sandwich for him. After all, the best way to distract a bear is with food.

*****

“Fuck it all to bloody hell!” Strike muttered with bitterness as he made his way down the steps. He had made it halfway down the path to the lot when he heard his name called from behind.

“Cormoran!” 

Without hesitation, he turned to see Robin at the top of the stairs. As he walked towards her, he set as neutral a face with all the bravery he could muster. God, she was breathtaking.

“Are you sure?” 

He croakily responded, “I am.”

She carefully descended the stairs as he met her halfway on them. 

“I want a contract this time.”

His lip slightly curled, “It’s yours.”

There is a pause, a connecting of eyes, before coming together in a hug that was half-agony, half-pleasure, and fully in category for which there was no name yet. 

Cautiously, they pulled apart, their arms lowered to their sides, their eyes reconnected.

_Come away with me,_ he thinks. 

_Ask me to go with you,_ she thinks. 

She offers a smile, “I’ll see you in London then?”

He nods, his voice barely audible as he fought back the next wave of rejection coming to take him under, “I’ll be there.” He takes a step down and then turns back to quip, “With a contract.”

“Right,” she briefly laughs. “I gotta get back…see if they managed to get the lights back on.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicion behind her, but he didn’t say anything.

“I’ll call you as soon as I can. Promise.”

“Until then…” he takes her hand and nearly kisses it the way he once did when he made her a junior partner. Instead, he gently squeezes it before letting go.

Without another glance, he descends the stairs.

*****

Strike struggled the rest of the walk for he wanted to be swallowed by the earth and weep himself into an oblivious sleep for the next hundred years.

The whole thing was absolute fuckery.

Strike opened the passenger door and submitted into gravity with a thud. He looked even worse than before; losing Robin took more out of him than Laing ever could.

Resentfully, he spared a glance at Shanker who looked smug and rested.

“You look chipper for someone who’s been cooped up in the car all day,” Strike commented.

“Enjoyed a restful slumber,” he retorted.

“Like hell you did.”

“Your brain’s all fried and you look bloody awful, mate,” Shanker countered.

“Good thing I’m not inside out,” Strike nearly whimpered.

Shanker couldn’t tell him the goldmine of gossip he wanted to share to boost Strike’s spirits, but he also didn’t want to give his friend false hope. He had kicked the chessboard into the air and had to wait to see where the pieces landed. If it didn’t go the way it ought to, then Robin didn’t deserve this lovesick puppy after all. 

“Not all is lost, mate, here have a sandwich,” he handed one over while the other sat in his lap. “You never know what’s going to happen,” Shanker assured.

Strike turned to him as if a stranger sat beside him, “Are you my fucking Fairy Godmother now?”

Shanker flashed that gold tooth, “May not be exactly what you’re expecting, but that’s just life, ain’t it? Trust me, she ain’t going nowhere.”

The grumpy bastard was too knackered to think anything more on this coded prattling.

“Fuck’s sake, let’s just get back to London. And knock it off with this sentimental optimism; it’s fucking unnerving,” Strike growled and crossed his arms, ignoring the sandwich, shutting his eyes under a furrowed brow.

“Give it a few days and then, if it’s not all sorted, we’ll piss the night away till you can’t remember your name let alone hers.”

Strike grumbled incoherently as he sunk in his seat knowing full well there was no cure for what ailed him no more than there was in forgetting all about her.

“This is all I’ve got. Drink it up and get some sleep,” he offered a flask of whiskey which Strike managed to bring to his lips, the burn quickly spreading throughout his body, coating the empty hollow in his chest.

Shanker puts the car in gear and rolls by an angry Tom, kicking his flat tires while cursing loudly. The bubbling laughter pops out of Shanker earning him a perplexed look from his passenger.

“What? It’s fucking funny. He is in league with that twat groom after all.”

Strike closed his eyes once more, having nothing left within him to give to anyone, even a laugh at the prank he was sure Shanker had caused, if not others, during his “slumber.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CREDIT: Again, dialogue exchange between Robin and Strike on steps taken from TV adaptation.
> 
> Nothing like a well-timed power outage...so there can be a surge elsewhere...
> 
> Oh, please. Like Matthew wouldn't...
> 
> I do giggle imagining Shanker doing all this, his sneaky grins while acting like it's Mission Impossible. I hope I've conveyed it well. Doing my best to make it as golden as his tooth! :)
> 
> Stay tuned for the next chapter's reveal...


	4. The Getaway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The effect of Shanker's shenanigans unravels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a rough week so I struggled with this a bit, but I tried. Hope it's still enjoyable. :)

Robin stared at the ceiling of an all too familiar room that had enclosed her during the worst times of her life – after leaving Uni, after being sacked, and now after her wedding day. 

The power outage had taken some time to sort as the circuit panel had burnt out in some places that the manager could not explain, and apologized profusely. The work required an emergency call to the electrician, but it would not be fixed that evening. The staff quickly brought out all the candles and lanterns they could find which weren’t many, leaving the first dance unfinished and soon forgotten. 

They went ahead and cut the cake, hoping the dessert would lift everyone’s spirits a little. Matthew’s hands shook so badly he could barely hold the knife to cut the first piece so Robin took over as he stepped away, looking down at his feet.

 _He’s so cross that he’s probably blaming me for the bloody power outage,_ Robin assumed as she shoved a piece of cake into her mouth. She barely tasted it, but it gave her an excuse not to smile.

Barely standing together, the new couple was blinded by the camera flashes of several phones before one of the waiters took over to cut the rest of the cake for the guests. Most took theirs as a takeaway, leaving the darkened reception hall since the party was pretty much over now.

Robin was secretly relieved to be released from this production sooner than expected. She needed to be alone – to think, decide, and plan. 

When the only people left shuffling around the dimly lit reception hall were close relatives and staff members, the new couple went to the bridal suite to gather their things in uncomfortable silence. 

Once emerged from the bridal suite with their luggage, Matthew and Robin heard voices shouting from a room a few doors down. It was Sarah and Tom having a very loud row.

“Wonder what that’s all about?” Robin wondered although she really could care less, it was just something to say.

“No idea. None of our business though, really,” Matthew replied, anxious to get a move on and leave.

The manager brought them a bit of good news that their rooms would be removed from the bill along with receiving their deposit in full.

“Thank you,” Robin croaked as Matthew had kept on towards the exit.

*****

Matthew rode with his dad while Robin joined her parents, deciding to remain separate for the night. Of course, judgmental eyebrows were raised from both sides but no one voiced an opinion. Still, Robin always felt the need to explain herself.

“Matt had a bit too much to drink, best sleep it off. Plus it’s been too long a day and I just want to sleep.” 

“Of course, dear,” Linda sympathized. “You both have an early start and will have plenty of time together on your honeymoon.”

Her stomach dropped once again. She longed for the equivalent of a power outage to prevent that mysterious trip Matthew had insisted be kept secret from her. 

How fitting. So many lies and secrets, big and small, which now made the foundation of their marriage as stable and healthy as one made of skulls.

Her thoughts fleeted to London…to Denmark Street…to the man who lived in the attic above his agency. The place she looked forward to seeing again which immediately calmed her and brought on a hopeful smile.

*****

Robin barely slept due to replaying the events of the past few days in her mind: Matthew’s deception and manipulation, something she had been ignoring, excusing, and placating for too long; her disconnect to the wedding and husband; and Strike’s enlightenment and then later their shared hug. 

She couldn’t stop thinking how she felt in his arms, the tingles returning in remembrance; how he had looked at her with curiosity, hope, and withholding; how he was the one special experience that brought her joy since returning to Masham for the wedding. She wished she could tell him how much his arrival meant, that not all was lost even if he didn’t offer her job back, could know. 

None of this with Matthew felt right in the least and she was grateful for this solitude, for not having to go through the motions of being man and wife, for not having to endure the chore of sleeping with her husband for the first time, thus consummating the marriage. They’d barely spoken ten words to one another since the power outage; he wouldn’t look at her causing her to wonder what else he might be hiding. 

She didn’t like asking for help if she could help it, always out to prove herself and avoid being challenged, but she asked the universe for some guidance and certainty. 

Maybe even a Fairy Godmother.

*****

Robin and Matthew sat in the back of her parents’ car as they drove them to the airport where they would head off for their honeymoon.

Matthew tried reaching for her hand, which Robin ignored, continued facing out the window looking at nothing in particular. The tension in the car was palpable and even her parents weren’t sure what to say, but Linda tried.

“Is it ok to ask where you’re off to?”

“Maldives,” Matthew answered. “Nothing but beaches and sand for two weeks.”

“Oh, how lovely then, eh Robin?”

Robin slowly turned, expressionless, “How stimulating.”

Matthew rolled his eyes with a sigh, resigning to look out his window. Linda retreated and said no more.

Once they pulled up to the airport’s drop-off point, they shared hugs and said their good-byes. Matthew then led the way to the counter to check their bags, Robin lagged as if she were carrying a boulder.

“Good morning, I’ll just need to see your passport and identification please.” The blonde flight attendant was chipper and smiley, who Matthew beamed at while Robin remained stoic. He handed over his information easily while Robin searched through her holdall

“What’s the matter?” Matthew asked impatiently.

“Did you do something with my passport?” Robin squatted on the floor and searched through the contents, only finding her wallet and ID, but no passport. “Check your bag in case it got thrown in there by accident.”

“Pardon me, but would you mind stepping aside so I can check in the guests behind you?” The attendant squeaked again.

“Sure,” Robin answered then she and Matthew moved to a nearby wall out of everyone’s way. She emptied both her holdall and suitcase while Matthew did the same.

Her passport was missing.

She called her parents, asking them to check the car to see if it had fallen out. 

No such luck. 

She then called Swinton Park and asked if a passport had been found. 

No such luck.

She called her brother Martin who was still at her parents’ house and asked him to check there.

No such luck.

“What the hell, Robin?” Matthew exploded. “You did this on purpose!”

“Don’t be ridiculous! I packed it with my wallet and haven’t touched this bag since.”

“Some detective you are if you can’t even stay on top of your passport,” he snorted, crossing his arms in a huff. 

Robin’s face contorted as if it had been slapped.

“You never let up, do you? What does this have anything to do with my being a detective? You’ve been acting even more strangely since the power outage yesterday. Why?”

“Well, you did abandon me during the first dance to run after…after…”

“Cormoran.”

“Don’t even say that man’s name in my presence especially while on my honeymoon.”

“It is just _your_ honeymoon because I’m not going anywhere without a passport. And a power outage stopped the first dance. My friend and work colleague had left and I wanted a proper goodbye after he traveled all the way to see us married.”

He snorted.

“You have any idea how much I spent on this? It’s a bloody trip to the Maldives, not cheap by a long shot. I took time off work for this so that’s bloody well wasted, too. For what? To stay home for two weeks while you go back to work for… _him_.”

Robin went back to organizing her things, tears stinging her eyes and falling down her reddened cheeks.

“You have your passport so go. Go and enjoy yourself.”

He looks taken aback, but says nothing, considering this option.

“Well, it would be a shame for this to go to waste.”

“You are the most selfish, conceited man I’ve ever met, you know that Matt?” she asked.

“You just gave me the option to go!”

“Yes, it’s all my fault, as usual!”

She glares at him for a moment when her phone pings.

“Answer it. Go ahead. Wouldn’t want to keep him waiting.”

He returns to the counter to check-in his luggage. 

Robin looks at her phone to see she’s been sent a video message. 

**_From a friend._ **

She hits _play_ and a barely lit room shows with two figures kissing and then having sex on a counter. She can hear them speak, her eyes burned as her stomach flopped realizing she was witnessing an interlude between her husband and Sarah. 

Matthew returns and notices her eyes glued to her phone, hand over her mouth.

“Now the flight is on a two-hour delay. Can this get any worse?” he’s even angrier at being further inconvenienced. “What are you watching?”

Suddenly, his words from the previous night echoed back to him.

_“Too…busy…playing detective…she’s…the most…clueless…of the two…of them…”_

The holdall fell from his shoulder and landed on the ground with a plop. 

She flipped the phone around to show him.

“Look familiar?”

Panicking, he grabbed for her phone, but she yanked it out of reach, holding it close to her chest, sidestepping him. She looked back down, the video replaying.

“Robin, I--” he started but she held up a firm hand.

“No, don’t. No more lies, no more excuses, no more pretending. I am done, Matthew. We are done.”

She picked up her bags and inhaled deeply.

Suddenly, a high-shriek from afar got their attention.

“Matthew!” a breathless Sarah ran over to them.

Robin lifted an eyebrow and Matthew paled as his eyes widened in part surprise, part embarrassment.

“Speaking of…”

“Matthew! Please, you can’t leave,” she blatantly ignored Robin standing there, gripping the front of Matthew’s shirt.

“Sarah, what are you doing here?”

“Oh, you silly boy, you know why I’m here. Do you think I’d just stay behind quietly after last night?”

The bottled-blonde looked over as if seeing his wife for the first time. Robin wrinkled her nose and shook her head, willing it not to explode and cause a scene.

“It’s ok, Sarah, no need to explain. I _saw_ what happened,” Robin refused to pretend with her.

“You saw?” she blushed, suddenly mortified, and Matthew paled ever further, nodding.

“Someone did. Thanks to ‘a friend’ I received the lovely video of your special shag during our reception.”

“Seems we both have someone looking out for us,” her eyes gleamed, the mortification quickly passing.

“What the hell are you talking about? Did you send it? Did you also take my passport?” Robin inquired.

“Huh? What, no, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I meant a _friend_. There was this driver at the reception yesterday,” Sarah began.

“Driver?” Robin’s eyes narrowed thinking of one driver in particular.

“Older bloke named, Bernie, said he drove a friend of yours, Matt.” She snuggled against his body which had gone into statue mode the moment she showed up. “Anyways, he saw I was upset and we had a good chat, very friendly, and told me I shouldn’t let you go. So here I am and I’m not letting you go.”

Her smile took up half her face and Robin literally couldn’t tell if this was real life or if she had just wandered onto the set of a badly written reality show.

“Sorry, Robin,” she half-heartedly apologized as an afterthought.

“No, actually, it’s fine. I mean, it isn’t, but this was a mistake. Has been for a long, _long_ time.”

Matthew managed to remove himself from Sarah’s grip and moved towards Robin who gathered her bags.

“I didn’t know this was going to happen,” he stated.

“Honestly, Matthew.” Robin pulled up on the handle to her luggage.

“I…I don’t want her,” he whispered, leaning towards her.

“Doesn’t matter because I don’t want you or this. I know what I want and that doesn’t include you. It hasn’t for quite some time.”

“Listen, Robin, let’s take the next few weeks to think about this and when I get back we can discuss it properly. Decide then.”

“Do you even hear the stupidity that spews from your mouth?”

“I’ll see you when I return,” he insisted. 

“No, you won’t.”

“What?”

“I’m going back to London to move out, start our annulment, and get back to work.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“The universe intervened and thank goodness for that. Goodbye, Matt.”

She takes a step and then stops.

“Matt?”

He hadn’t moved and looked at her. “Yeah?”

“You fight me on the annulment or dare continue to spread the rumor that Cormoran and I had an affair – which we didn’t – this video gets sent to everyone on our Christmas and wedding guest list. Understood?” She held up her phone, both her voice and expression strong and resolute.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Fair enough.”

She left him to deal with Sarah, exited the airport, and motioned towards a waiting taxi.

“Train station, please.”

After dialing one of her contacts, she pressed the phone to her ear and waited for the person to pick-up.

“Surprised to hear from me? Well, listen, I’ve just left the airport and heading to the train station. You’re to pick me up at 3:30, non-negotiable.”

She added knowingly with a mischievous grin.

“And then you can return my passport, _Bernie_.”


	5. The Best Laid Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The conclusion to Shanker's sabotaging of Robin's wedding reception.  
> Happy, good, sweet fluff!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wound up being a bit longer than expected, but I couldn't bring myself to break it into two parts.
> 
> Then the dancing scene came to me and I just had to include it (especially with one of my all-time favorite songs).

On the train ride to London, Robin thought about what a great muck-up job she’d done by going through with the wedding. After everything Matthew had done to her, she had willingly decided to settle on him, his trite expectations and boring existence of repetitiveness and control, to appease him and her family. 

_Despite his unfaithfulness._

She shook her head and sighed. What Cormoran must think her now…ridiculous and stupid; her losing his respect burdened her far greater than losing a marriage that began and ended on the same day.

Robin wrote, deleted, and rewrote an assortment of texts to Cormoran, generally knowing what to say, but not exactly how to convey it. A text was just too impersonal for an occasion that was too delicate, too raw, too important. Yes, this must be done face-to-face, even if it put everything at risk for choosing him was well worth it. It was always him whether or not he was an option. Plus, if she sent him a text, it would give him a chance to rebuild those walls after all that’s transpired. She wanted a fresh start without their friendship having to start all over again. She wanted them to be open and honest and talk to each other. 

No more hiding, no more assuming. He wasn’t one for surprises, but she believed he’d forgive her for this one.

To help keep anxiety at bay, she did what she did best: organize. She pulled out her notebook and created a ‘To Do’ list to tackle upon returning to London: pack her belongings from flat – sort by keep, store, giveaway (or leave for Matt); tea and biscuits for the office (no doubt those cupboards were bare and dusty by now); a new place to live. 

Not necessarily a place to call home because the agency was her home; the detective who started it was her home…a beacon…a compass…an anchoring point…

Even with Matt frolicking the island with Sarah for two weeks, the flat gave her a place to stay without an extra expense, but the memories of both Matthew and the Ripper were unwelcome realizations. Despite knowing he was behind bars and couldn’t get to her anymore, she’d be facing those ghosts alone and in the darkness. She accepted this as part of moving on and dealing with ghosts which would not deter her from learning how to survive on her own. 

With or without Strike.

On the off chance she was too late and he rescinded his renewal of their working relationship, she jotted down a few back-up ideas as well. She rubbed the heel of her hand to her heart at the thought of working without Strike; of having a life without him in it in any form.

The ringing of her phone jolted her from these thoughts; a wave of relief was replaced by one of nausea: it was her mum. Not wanting anyone’s voice in her head but her own until things were sorted with Strike, she let it ring to voicemail. This part of the journey was for herself that included maintaining equilibrium to keep the focus on what mattered most to her in this world.

She found the further away from Masham and Matthew she traveled the lighter she felt, both physically and emotionally. Breathing easier with an outline of the necessary tasks for the next two weeks, she closed her eyes and harnessed the present.

***** 

In the wee hours of the morning, Shanker had dropped off Strike at the agency. He had been staying in the guest room of Nick and Ilsa’s since reporters had been hanging on the street outside his office building since the press got wind of a woman’s severed leg being delivered to him. With the Ripper case recently wrapped, they still sporadically showed up and waited for him. 

After a long hot shower and a few hours’ sleep, he was now up and dressed, ready for coffee and food. 

Lots of it.

He refused to hide in his friends’ home away from his attic and office. He wanted his space, seclusion, and more space. He had to line up new clients before the agency went full tits up thanks to Laing, including touching base with Wardle about both Laing and Brockbank. He also had to work on a contract for Robin.

_Robin._

Looking at his phone for the umpteenth time since he begrudgingly woke up, he saw that he hadn’t missed any calls or texts from her. It hadn’t even been a full 24 hours since he’d left her on those steps.

He still felt her in his arms, smelled her perfume around him, and remembered how she had beheld his gaze from the “I do” to when he abandoned her reception.

While he considered himself fortunate to have her as a work partner again, it was still a double-edged sword for she would return a married woman. To avoid dwelling on that fact and his tumultuous feelings about it, he required his own space to ground him, to recalibrate, and to grieve. Work soothed him, gave him purpose, and when all else was total shite, distraction. 

He’d nearly give his other leg for a complicated case to get lost in for the next two weeks so he wouldn’t keep thinking about her and that damn hug. Somehow he knew even the most convoluted case wouldn’t keep her off his mind.

*****

Robin awoke as the train announced its arrival; she felt refreshed despite a slightly sore neck. As she departed the train, she checked her phone and saw several more missed calls from her mum. Upon exiting the tube station, she spotted Shanker immediately, leaning against the same stolen car he used to get Strike practically across the country to her wedding.

Approaching him carefully, a stern look in place, her gaze locked on his until he squirmed. He shuffled and crossed his arms this way and that until she came to a full stop in front of him. Setting the holdall on the ground next to her luggage, she crossed her arms to mirror him and stared at him until he broke.

“Look Robs, I’m not sorry for what I done,” he blurted out. “You’d been miserable and it’s my fault I got you in trouble with Bunsen. And you’re a good girl who deserves the best and you’re a great detective, Bunsen says so all the time, and I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing. Plus, I can’t stand posh twats and he got what he got including that dozer of a girl. I’m just sorry you got hurt is all and hope you can forgive me someday.”

He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and swiped the bottom of his shoe across the pavement. 

“Also should note that Bunsen hasn’t a clue. Ordered me to stay in the blasted car the whole time, but I didn’t listen and he thinks I did. He might’ve suspected if he weren’t so distracted by his own heart. Bloody sap.”

Robin uncrossed her arms and stepped closer causing Shanker to brace himself for the slap that was sure to come. Instead, her face broke into a wide grin as her arms flung around his neck into a big hug. He smelled of cigarette smoke and pungent body odor, but she didn’t care. He had helped save her in a way she couldn’t fully grasp yet, let alone explain. His arms remained against his body, not sure what to do. Finally, he lifted a hand and patted her on the back like a sister or mate, uncomfortable with this bit of emotion, especially with a mate’s bird.

She finally released him then planted a quick kiss on his cheek, laughing a bit through a few tears that managed to come through.

“I thought for sure you were gonna wipe the sidewalk with me, Robs,” he confessed on a sigh of relief.

“Your actions were a bit unorthodox and unexpected, but you were the guardian I needed.” She stopped as something occurred to her. “You didn’t go through my knickers did you?”

“Hey, I’m a thief, not a creep,” he clarified and retrieved her passport from inside his jacket pocket. “This belongs to you.”

She took her passport, lightly smacked it against his chest before putting it back where it belonged. 

“You are truly something else, Bernie.”

He laughed, that gold tooth shining in the sunlight.

“I earned that. Sorry about the cheating and the video, Robs, but be hard to believe without it.”

“Not really, but video proof is very hard to dispute and even harder to ignore. Don’t be sorry though. It’s part of my job being the messenger of bad news so I understand.”

“Just be glad you weren’t there, bird. Nearly gouged out my eyes and ears.”

“But then how you would keep a lookout out for us, eh?”

“Someone sure has to for Christ’s sake.”

She looked at the car then back at him.

“Where am I taking you then? Home?”

“No, the agency.”

His grin widened even further.

“Bunsen’s in for a surprise then.”

“Yes. Let’s hope it’s a welcomed one.”

He grabbed her bags and hoisted them into the boot.

“Trust me, Robs. He’ll welcome you with open arms.”

“Really?” she inquired.

_As if Shanker would lie after pulling his shenanigans._

“Even with gouged eyes, I’d see that.”

She returned an optimistic smile to his reassuring one, and off they went to Denmark Street. 

*****

Robin had Shanker stop near a grocer so she could grab tea, biscuits, and some other snacks for the office. She wanted to be prepared when it was time to roll up her sleeves and get to work in rebuilding the agency; an empty stomach and zero caffeine would only hinder productivity and dampen moods further.

A few journalists were found to be hanging outside the building’s door when Shanker pulled up about a block away.

“Vultures. Trying to get a pop on with Strike about the Ripper I’m guessin’.”

“Could use a bit of distraction so I can go on up,” Robin surmised as she counted about five of them lurking about. One was too many for her to deal with right now let alone five.

“Leave it me, Robs. You get out here and wait for the opportune moment.”

She did as instructed, retrieved her luggage, and waited in a doorway where she could easily hide if necessary. Before he pulled away, he leaned his head out the window.

“Good luck with Bunsen. It’ll all turn out for the best.”

She nodded as he rolled down the street, stopping to talk to the journalists. Whatever he said made them clear away immediately. She waited till all were out of sight before making her way with urgency to the door.

As she carefully climbed the stairs she had done a thousand times before, memories swept over her with each step: her following him after a drunken stupor to aid a broken heart, following him to and from the Landry flat when he allowed her assistance, the sound of him returning on his own while she held down the office. 

Now the landing, where it all began: him storming out of the office and running into her like a bull, nearly knocking her down a flight of stairs to go after his ex-girlfriend. Followed by him gently coaxing her into an office that looked as if a tornado had just blown through, asking how he could help her, and her notifying him she was there as his temp.

Her fingertips grazed over his name printed on the door and then pondered if she should knock first or let herself in. He did ask her back though so she wasn’t trespassing. If he left it unlock then perhaps he was open for business despite it being a Sunday.

She turned the knob, but it was locked, so she knocked and waited. Nothing happened. 

Digging out her keys, she found the office one, never having the chance to return it yet, and unlocked the door. Crossing the threshold was like entering Narnia, a very office-like and professional Narnia. After turning on the lights, she took a few glorious moments to study the tidy and clean office that felt empty without her, and she without it. She set her luggage by the farting couch then went to the kitchenette to turn on the kettle and put away the tea and biscuits. 

Walking around to his office seeing the open door and peered inside but he wasn’t at his desk lost in a file or asleep in his chair. Her eyes wandered to the ceiling, ears trying to detect his presence upstairs, but he wasn’t there either. If he were asleep, she’d hear his snores clear as day through the floorboards as she had several times before whenever he overslept. 

Even in his absence, she was enveloped in safety and warmth nearly as much as his presence did, even when he was being a grumpy bugger. It elated her to react even stronger to this sensation than before as if her heart were a balloon with its string currently attached to her sleeve. 

She ran her fingers over the edge of his desk, could still smell a hint of smoke and his musk despite the disinfectant smell. He had gone on a recent cleaning frenzy.

Robin had been so caught up in her thoughts she hadn’t heard the front door open. She stepped away from the desk to return out front when there he was, standing by the coat rack, unable to move his feet. The larger than life, a burly figure with disheveled hair, tired green eyes surrounded by even deeper lines than yesterday. His mouth was slightly agape, his eyes hypnotized. His fingers lost mobility, the grocery bags slipping from them to land on the ground. He blinked several times not sure the figure currently in his office was real.

Her heart raced at the sight of him. Even bruised and banged up, he was the best thing she’d ever seen, never happier to see him than she did now. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that what she felt was real, true, and decent. It was by sheer will that she didn’t leap into his arms, kiss his stubble and the scar on his lip, all while pouring her heart all over his feet.

As if sharing a similar sentiment, his breathing nearly stopped.

“Cormoran,” she whispered that he could barely hear over the roaring in his ears.

“Robin,” he croaked. 

She cautiously stepped towards him as he casually considered the office, spotting her luggage, and then returned to her with a sheepish grin.

“You didn’t have to be so dramatic. You could’ve just called.”

Her mouth twisted into a smile as his face continued a battle of surprise, fear, and delight.

“There are just some things you have to do in person if one can help it.”

He did not attempt to hide his observation of her left hand, now bare, before sliding his gaze back to her flushed face. 

“I’m listening,” he said quietly as he leisurely treaded towards her. Ever so slowly his face relaxed, the remaining shred of any guard he had left in him falling away. She was here now with him, not on her honeymoon. He’d deal with the consequences later if he was currently misreading the room.

Rather than speak, she wrapped her arms around his neck waiting for his to encircle her, which he did without hesitation. For the second time in as many days, they found themselves in an embrace, this time their feelings compounded and overwhelming. She buried her face into his neck and began to cry softly, his arms tightening around her as he breathed in her hair. The warmth between them fused their bodies fully and aligned; the lightest and happiest either had felt in their whole life.

“That wasn’t _just_ a hug on the steps yesterday, was it?” she muffled against his neck.

“No,” he responded gently.

“There is something more here, right?”

He withdrew enough to study her face, wanting to choose his words wisely, but honesty won out. Raising a hand, he brushed the knuckles against her cheek.

“Everything I want, that I dare ask for, is right here in my arms.”

“That’s good to know especially since I’m in love with you,” she declared. His breath hitched on a sob but he just held her even tighter. 

“God, Robin…”

“Did I say the wrong thing?”

“Absolutely not! Been crazy about you since the Landry case and knew I was in love with you when we went to Barrow. Never thought I’d ever have the chance to tell you as much. I want you more than anything.”

“What about the agency?”

“Agency be damned. I’d be an even grumpier fuck without you and what good is a bloody agency if I scare away all the potential clients?”

Despite the bubbling of laughter, Robin’s eyes welled up again. He placed a kiss on both of her cheeks.

“I just want you. Everything else is a pleasant bonus.”

Ever so gently, his lips found hers in a kiss that didn’t demand nor urge; it was tender yet full, soft yet passionate. The kiss released them from one spell, placing them under another, together. She sighed when they parted, then rested her forehead against his.

“I can’t believe what a fool I’ve been, the colossal mistakes I’ve made…”

He moved his lips to kiss her forehead.

“Speaking of…why aren’t you on your honeymoon?” he asked quietly.

Her eyes pled for forgiveness, breaking his heart.

“You know some of the mistakes I’ve made out of what I thought was love so I’m not asking out of judgment. You are still the brilliant, amazing, decent Robin you have always been and will always be.” Her features softened at his reassurance. “So what happened?”

Placing a palm against his heart, she looked down to watch her finger trace the outline of it, before sharing a secret.

“Let’s just say we both have a person of interest looking out for us.”

His eyes narrowed. “Like a fairy godmother?”

“You could say that.”

His features shifted into a scowl.

“What _did_ Shanker _do_?”

She laughed. “He was up to a few things including catching Matt and Sarah shagging on video.”

“WHAT?!” 

She winced at his sudden loudness.

“Sorry,” he lowered his voice. “I knew he didn’t stay in the bloody car like I told him,” he grumbled, looking away while he compartmentalized a plan to both murder and thank his longtime friend. “And sorry about the shagging.”

“At least you didn’t have to watch it.”

“Fuck’s sake, Robin. I’d offer to kill him with my bare hands, but I’m in too good a mood currently. You still have it?”

“Why? You wanna watch it.”

“Hell no. For insurance in case the tosser decides to make trouble for you.”

“Way ahead of you on that as that’s been taken care of.”

He smiled proudly at her. “That’s my girl.”

She beamed and then nonchalantly added, “Glad you don’t want to see it as it’s not that great from a spectator’s point of view. Or a participant’s, come to that.”

The bold summation of her entire sex life caught him off guard and she couldn’t help but giggle. He gave her a quick, protective kiss before assuring, “I promise to happily shag you senseless for as many times required and then some until those images are permanently removed from your head.”

She threw back her head in laughter even though she knew he was being totally serious.

“Deal. Poor Bernie though.”

He frowned at her, not following, and she shook her head.

“I’ll explain later.”

Strike released her so he could take her hands in his.

“Robin, I didn’t…”

“I know. He made sure to clarify that straight away, not that I think you would’ve gone to such lengths. I mean, really, all you had to do was ask me…”

He stared at her, regretfully, wondering if he had been a coward for not asking or too selfless to ask.

“I just had to ask?”

“Yes.”

“Well, there’s nothing to run away from now, but all the same, will you be with me? The real deal? All of it. Everything I have is yours, for however long you want it.”

He kissed both of her hands and held them to his lips as he awaited her answer.

“Well, that all depends…”

“On?”  
She looked behind him to the bags on the floor.

“Is there enough in your takeaway for two?”

He let out a deep chuckle.

“Always, but I’m only willing to share with you because I love you.”

“Good because I haven’t eaten in two days.”

With one hand in his, she followed him to retrieve his grocery bag and take-away from the floor. 

“So is that a ‘yes’?” he asked still not quite believing all of this was happening.

“Yes,” she beamed at him.

He popped two beers while she set out the plates and opened the takeaway. They each made their helping in comfortable silence, exchanging glances and smiles, before sitting beside each other on the couch. Naturally, it farted even louder upon them sitting down simultaneously and they broke into a fit of laughter. 

After managing a few bites, Robin suggested, “Now, tell me how you caught Laing.”

His eyes warmed to the excitement in hers at wanting to know how the case was solved, without a hint of resentment of her being sacked. He realized he didn’t ever want to work a case that he couldn’t discuss with her.

“It dawned on me when I visited mum’s grave and saw the sea holly…” he began.

*****

Shanker and Strike enjoyed a drink at Leda’s grave, reminiscing the last few days. They perched in front of her stone as they had on every anniversary of her death with a few other occasions in between, this being one of those outside occasions.

“You gonna burn me now?” Shanker asked after they took their first sip.

“Fuck no. You’re a reliable informant. Surprisingly, a fucking soppy one at that.”

“Knob off, will ya?” Shanker snorted. After a few moments of contemplation, he shrugged. “Couldn’t help me self. I wasn’t for sure it’d turn out this way, but I couldn’t live with not knowing in the way I do with your mum.”

Strike sighed. “It wasn’t your fault. Nothing you could’ve done.”

“Says you.”

“I don’t blame you. Never did.”

“Yeah, well, it’s part of my coming to peace with it all, I s’ppose. Pretty fond of your Robs,” confessed Shanker.

“As am I. I’m glad she’s safe.”

“Try to keep her that way, would you? I can’t keep my eyes on the two of you all the time. Daddy has to work.”

Strike took a drag on his cigarette as Shanker lit one of his own.

“Still a ‘no’ on killing Whittaker?”

Strike blew smoke from his nostrils, looking away. “Slowly warming to the idea, but still a no from me. He’s pathetic, not worth the effort just now.”

“Could always do it as a wedding gift to you.”

Strike rolled his eyes, suppressing a grin. “You can knob off now.”

“His time will come eventually even if I have to give the universe a nudge.”

“Like a fairy godmother?”

“God _father_. And you’re welcome.”

Strike extended an arm and patted his friend’s back before gripping his shoulder.

“Yeah, thanks.”

“We good?”

Strike clinked his bottle once more to his friend’s. “We’re good.”

*****

By the end of two weeks, Robin had been able to secure an affordable yet safe studio flat while organizing her belongings in the appropriate category. She and Strike worked diligently side-by-side on the next upswing of the agency, starting with two new clients while repairing the financial damage caused by Laing and creating a plan with other potential clients as well as prospective new hires. 

She used part of her parents’ gift of a down payment on a new home for the deposit to her flat, brought the agency’s utilities up to date (she sold her wedding and engagement rings to do just that), and enrolled in a 6-week self-defense course for starters. Strike was more than happy to arrange their schedules to support her endeavor.

By the end of the month, her annulment was finalized, freeing her from Matthew even earlier than expected due to Sarah’s dad, an attorney, helping speed up the process so she and Matthew could be “legitimate” sooner. Although blackmail was beneath her, Robin counted on having that video in her possession as the quiet way to get what she asked for during the only mediation date for the annulment. As advised at the airport, he gave her zero fight and fuss on the matter along with an arrangement to repay her parents fifty-percent of what they spent on their wedding.

To celebrate the official end of her life tethered to Matthew, she poured a glass of whiskey for both her and Strike when she returned to the office after her legal appointment. 

“Cheers to you, love” Strike tapped his glass to hers, watching her take a sip before he took one of his own.

“Cheers to us,” she took another sip before setting it down on her desk. “I have a favor to ask.”

“You using whiskey to soften me up, Ellacott?” he teased.

“I would never! Ok, maybe a little because of my request.”

_As if he could deny her anything._

“I’m sure the answer is yes, but all the same, what’s the favor?”

“Well, my first dance was not with the man I love and it was left unfinished.” She pushed a few buttons on her phone as the classic _The Very Thought of You_ begins to play. “I’d like to have the first dance with you.”

He was wrong; he loved her even more than thirty seconds ago.

_The very thought of you  
And I forget to do…_

Extending her hand to his, she pierced him with her blue-gray eyes. “Will you dance with me?”

_The little ordinary things  
That everyone ought to do…_

He set his glass beside hers before accepting her hand, smoothly pressing her body close to his. 

“I do love a classic,” he mused, lifting an eyebrow.

Slowly, they swayed and turned, gazing at one another, the only two people in existence. No two souls better mated, no two hearts so in sync, no two minds more aligned.

_I'm living in a kind of daydream  
I'm happy as a king  
And foolish though it may seem  
To me, that's everything_

_The mere idea of you  
The longing here for you  
You'll never know how slow the moments go  
'Til I'm near to you_

_I see your face in every flower  
Your eyes in stars above  
It's just the thought of you  
The very thought of you  
My love_

The music stopped and she raised her feet so that she could kiss the scar on his lips. Once lowered, she confidently led him by hand out of the office and up the stairs to his flat.

*****

Less than a year later, Billy Knight walked through their door claiming to have seen a little girl murdered in the dell…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this Shanker Saga!
> 
> Stay tuned for the spin-off from one of my Striketober prompts: Shanker and Robin go undercover as a couple in "The Odd Couple: Shanks & Robs" (Strike's grumpiness goes off the charts! lol)

**Author's Note:**

> CREDIT: Most of the dialogue exchanged between Robin and Strike post-wedding were taken from TV adaptation of Lethal White.
> 
> Also, I think if Strike had the will, energy, and ability to drive, he might've just thrown Shanker into the boot.
> 
> Hope this turns out as good as it is in my head. I tend to overthink (like Strike!) but just went for it (like Robin!). Feedback welcomed. :)


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